


Pastel Sprinkles

by The_lazy_eye



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Carnival, First Date, Fluff, Look inside to find out more, M/M, Modern AU, No clown fuck that, Richie and Eddie go to a carnival and it's cute, Set in Boston, There's a Llama involved, online dating au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 18:36:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20030464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_lazy_eye/pseuds/The_lazy_eye
Summary: They met maybe a month ago during a spur of the moment decision. Stan had Mike, Ben had Bev, and Eddie always felt like such a fifth wheel. Even when it wasn’t a date, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being so unnecessary. And yeah, you don’t need to be in a relationship to be complete, but damn it all to hell and back if he didn’t want some company. He wanted someone to laugh with and someone to sleep with at night. Someone to share meals with and text; someone to hold hands with; someone to really share himself with. No, he didn’t need it but he sure as hell wanted it.Which is how he finally broke down and downloaded OKCupid. The profile was easy to set up, there was no fee to join, and he could delete it any time his little heart desired. Plus, it wasn’t one of those apps that were known for sex and sex only. Yeah, sure, a hookup is nice every now and again but he doesn’t need an app for that. He has no problem finding cute boys in bars to go home with. The thing he has the most issues with is finding someone to stay in the morning.Someone decent.Someonelike this OKCupid match.





	Pastel Sprinkles

The streets are crowded, people passing every which way to get to wherever they’re going. Standing still off to the side of it all, Eddie feels his shoulders get bumped and he gives with the motion of it, rocking gently on the sidewalk. His phone stays clutched in his left hand, the heat from it only adding to the sweat that coats his palms. The sun is hot as it sets in the sky.

The longer he stands there, the more nervous he gets because, fuck, maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe his mother was right, maybe everything bouncing around in his gut was right. This couldn’t be a good idea. This boy, he’s too cute. Way too good looking for Eddie. Even if Richie’s oversized glasses and lanky build might be a little unconventional for other people, there’s no way Eddie is this lucky. 

They met maybe a month ago during a spur of the moment decision. Stan had Mike, Ben had Bev, and Eddie always felt like such a fifth wheel. Even when it wasn’t a date, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being so unnecessary. And yeah, you don’t need to be in a relationship to be complete, but damn it all to hell and back if he didn’t want some company. He wanted someone to laugh with and someone to sleep with at night. Someone to share meals with and text; someone to hold hands with; someone to really  _ share _ himself with. No, he didn’t need it but he sure as hell  _ wanted  _ it. 

Which is how he finally broke down and downloaded OKCupid. The profile was easy to set up, there was no fee to join, and he could delete it any time his little heart desired. Plus, it wasn’t one of those apps that were known for sex and sex only. Yeah, sure, a hookup is nice every now and again but he doesn’t need an app for that. He has no problem finding cute boys in bars to go home with. The thing he has the most issues with is finding someone to stay in the morning. 

Someone decent. 

_ Someone _ like this OKCupid match. 

Or so he hopes, he’s not so sure anymore. They agreed to meet on the corner of Prince and Hanover at four to go to some kind of carnival Eddie found online. Carnivals were a good first date, he thought. Plenty to do, plenty to eat, and very  _ come and go _ . If his date ever got here and they both decided that it wasn’t working, they could go home, or if it were going particularly bad, there were enough people around that Eddie could give him the slip without too much hassle. Shady, yeah, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It wouldn’t be the first bad date he’s been on. 

The phone in his hand stays suspiciously quiet and nerves continued to kick up in his gut. The clock tower in the distance reads a disheartening four fifteen and the more people that knock into him, the more annoyed he gets. 

Behind him, people climb up a set of concrete stairs leading to the carnival entrance. In front of him, traffic cuts sharply every which way. The colors of the cars blur together until the light changes from green to red, and then the people move instead. Girls in short denim shorts and high ponytails walk past. Boys in chinos and loose-fitting tanks walk the other way. None of them have that thick, black hair Eddie is looking for. None of them have those dark rimmed glasses he was used to seeing on Snapchat. All of them made his heart sink and his stomach burn. 

“Fuck it.” The subway is across the street and the little red hand on the traffic pole blinks with fifteen seconds left. This is Eddie’s chance unless he wants to wait around for another ten minutes for the light to change, which he might have done if he thought it would accomplish anything. It won’t. All it will do is make him angrier with his date and more upset with himself for falling for it. Fucking men. None of them want a commitment. They’re just in it for a good time and if anything else starts to pop up, like, I don’t know, a serious chance at a relationship? They high tail it out of there like puppies with their dicks tucked between their legs. 

He jams his phone in his pocket and starts off, brow creased and his free hand balled into a fist. This is a huge mistake. This isn’t worth any of his time or his effort. It isn’t – 

“Wait!” 

It’s not the words he registers, per say, it’s more the hand on his bicep that stops him from stepping out onto the crosswalk. It makes his instincts kick in and he yanks his arm forward, out of the loose grip before he turns around with one hand raised. his face burns with even more anger and a twinge of embarrassment. “What the fuck!”

At first, he plans to keep going, plans to keep yelling and fighting, plans to maybe take a swing depending on the person who’s got their hands on him. He doesn’t, though, because of all that dark hair, those glasses, those fucking lopsided freckles standing in front of him looks both startling familiar and remorseful. 

“I’m sorry!” Comes in an unfamiliar shout. Strange hands fly up into a  _ please, please don’t punch me in the face  _ kind of fashion and blue eyes go wide with either shock or fear. “You wouldn’t turn around and I just didn’t know how to get your attention.”

“Richie?” Eddie says and the man in front of him nods, hands slowly lowering to his sides. A sheepish grin comes over his face and allows Eddie to see his teeth, straight and even from the dental work Richie mentioned his father does. He hates that he’s impressed by such a bright smile, even when it’s so obviously muted, so he forces himself to look angry and crosses his arms. “You’re late.”

“Hey, loverboys, get out of the middle of the sidewalk,” someone says in passing. Richie’s eyes narrow for a second before he holds his hand out. Eddie grabs it gently and lets Richie lead him back in the direction of the carnival. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Richie says in a much softer, genuine tone. “My train kept getting delayed and I had no service underground. It was a nightmare, I was so worried you’d be gone by the time I got here.”

“I thought you stood me up,” Eddie says, wincing as the words come out of his mouth. Dammit, that wasn’t what he meant to say. He’s not trying to  _ guilt  _ Richie, he’s just a little hurt and annoyed and it’s hard for him to keep it all bottled up. 

It doesn’t seem to faze Richie, though, because he gives Eddie’s hand a gentle squeeze before saying, “No way, I’ve been looking forward to this date for two weeks.”

And that… wasn’t what Eddie was expecting to hear. If any of the redness managed to drain from his face earlier, there’s no doubt that its back now and with a vengeance. 

Richie takes the steps slowly, matching his ridiculously long legs up with Eddie’s strides so they don’t get separated in any way. Every now and again he looks down at Eddie and smiles something soft and welcoming. There's nothing about his body language that indicates he’s anything less than thrilled and it helps some of the tension ease out of Eddie’s shoulders. Even when he speaks, it’s a gentle, “Let me make it up to you,” that makes Eddie’s heart skip a beat or two.

They stop at the top of the cement steps and off to the side near some kind of chain link fence. Just beyond them, chaos ensues in the form of bright, spinning rides and food and games and nose. Eddie can smell the funnel cake wafting towards them; he can feel the breeze from the Round Up. Richie smiles down at him and this time it isn’t muted. His eyes are bright and full of light and excitement and it’s at this exact moment in time that Eddie realizes how fucking  _ tall  _ six-two is. Yeah, sure, he’d read it on Richie’s profile before but he never actually stopped to consider what that might look like in real life. For the past month, Richie was nothing more than a picture on his phone or a stream of text messages – now he’s a living, breathing, fucking  _ gigantic  _ man standing in front of Eddie’s pathetic five-five ass. 

Despite the overwhelming feeling of shortness and the fading annoyance from the past couple minutes, Eddie doesn’t hesitate to say, “Oh, yeah? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“Well,” Richie says, eyes slanted into something slightly mischievous and smile still bright, “I think I remember someone mentioning that he liked fair food and games. Why don’t I win you an ‘I’m sorry’ prize?”

“No.” Food and games first? No way. Richie might be a pretty face but he’s not proving himself to be the brightest crayon in the box so far. The expression on Richie’s face shifts from something confident and sly to something that’s taken down a peg or two and Eddie realizes that he hasn’t followed up with anything, just shut Richie down in cold blood. “If we eat now, we’ll throw up when we ride anything.”

“Fuck, you scared me,” Richie says, a gentle laugh undercutting his words. “Look at you, cute and smart.”

“We can’t all be winners,” Eddie finds himself laughing back, making some kind of vague gesture to Richie to hide the way the compliment makes his face burn. At this point, he’s been red for so long that he might be able to play it off as sunburn. Yeah, that might be a good plan. 

Eddie’s hand still sits in Richie’s, warm and comfortable and secure, and Richie uses that to help guide them both through the crowds of people. The night is still early, but the carnival itself has been going strong for a couple of hours now. Couples, groups, and families all move throughout the space in whatever way they want to. Thankfully, even though the ticket line is long they get through pretty quick. Eddie doesn’t even have time to get his wallet out before Richie orders a book for forty tickets, paying for it and dragging them both out and into the middle of the action. 

It’s weird. Not too long ago Eddie was preparing to send Richie a wall of text telling him to go eat an ass before deleting his number and blocking him on basically everything. Now, he’s laughing so hard he can’t breathe, bent over his own knees as he clutches his sides and gasps for air. Richie is funny. Man, his goofy voices on snapchat and his well worded text messages were nothing compared to him in person. He’s got a joke for everything and his timing is impeccable. He’s not too fast for Eddie, though, and the two of them spend their time between rides casually jabbing at one another until someone breaks – and even well past that. 

He’s more than his humor, too. He’s kind and gentle, despite his self-proclaimed warnings for being a Ruiner and a Clutz. He guides Eddie to each ride slowly, making sure neither of them trip or needlessly bump into anyone. And god, he’s chivalrous, too. To the point where Eddie basically has to trick him into letting Eddie buy the funnel cake they share. Richie hadn’t caught on until it was too late, Eddie having bought it while pretending to excuse himself to the bathroom. 

On the Tilt-A-Whirl, Richie swings his weight so hard to the left that when they spin the world is nothing but blurs of yellows and blues. His scream is fake and shrill and hilarious as he whoops and hollers for the entire ride. The mother in the cart next to them glares as she steps off but Richie doesn’t notice, he’s too busy shaking his wild mop of hair out for no possible reason. The Cosmotron bleeds dark purples and reds together. Inside, Richie tries to do push ups against gravity and ends up with his face pressed against the mat for the second half of the ride. 

At the top of the Ferris wheel, Richie’s pale skin shines golden in the setting sun. 

“So, what game is your favorite game?” Richie’s hand sweeps out in front of him as he speaks, gesturing to the row of carnival games in front of them. There’s a basketball game, a darts game, a little fishing game, and one of those games where you’re not allowed to touch the wire with the metal hoops. All of them are rigged, no doubt, but that doesn’t stop Eddie from getting excited at the mere thought of playing. There’s something silently competitive that sits under his skin and carnivals are the perfect place to unleash it. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t given it much thought.” 

“You don’t know what your favorite game is? I thought you loved carnie games!” He genuinely looks surprised as he says it, eyes a little bit wider and mouth hanging open just a little bit. It really compliments the powdered sugar all over the front of his black Henley. It’s something that Eddie would find disgusting on anyone else but on Richie it’s oddly endearing.

“I do! I just – I don’t know. I never thought about it,”

“Okay, dealer’s choice then,” Richie shrugs as he pulls on Eddie’s hand, leading him right up to a booth that has balloons lining the back wall and soft, plush stuffed animals hanging from the top. “This is  _ my  _ personal poison.”

“Step right up, winner every time guaranteed!” The man behind the booth calls out. His shirt looks old, stained with some kind of food that is likely from the vendors of this fine establishment. His hair is greased back and Eddie honestly isn’t sure if it’s from some kind of hair product or from not showering. Either way, the look of it sets him on edge. “You two fine boys look like you’re in the mood to pop a balloon or two!”

Richie, thankfully, steps up and holds his hand out. He’s got ten dollars in it, enough for seven darts, and says, “You bet we are. I need to win this boy an ‘I’m sorry’ prize.”

“Nothing says  _ I’m sorry  _ like one of my patented, prize winning assortment.”

“What makes them prize winning,” Eddie finds himself grumbling. He’s something mixed between enamored with Richie’s dedication to win him something and annoyance at the carnie’s general existence. 

“The fact that they’re prizes and you’re gonna win ‘em.” He hands Richie the darts and Richie hands Eddie four of the seven and together, they throw. Eddie goes first, popping a green balloon in the middle of the wall. Richie goes next, nailing between an orange and a purple one. In front of them, the carnie heckles, “You’re gonna have to do better than that, mop top!”

Eddie pops another balloon and this time, Richie does, too. The second the needle breeches the rubber, Richie’s arms are up and he’s cheering for himself with a “Eds, tell me you saw that!”

Eddie answers with a laugh and a nod, throwing his dart when Richie motions for him to do so. Another balloon pops and Richie cheers some more. He even continues to cheer when he misses his third and final throw. 

“Alright, kid –”  _ not a kid _ , Eddie thinks bitterly “– if you pop this one, you’ll get a medium sized prize.” Eddie narrows his eyes, first at the carnie and then at the wall. Not a lot is riding on this, but something naturally rolls under his skin; an intense desire to win. He throws, one eye closed and arm steady, and the dart sails and sails and  _ sails  _ until it connects with the back wall. Every balloon on the wall stayed still, not even so much as moving from the passing wind. 

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself but Richie is right there, jumping up and down and asking Eddie about the prizes. He’s so damn excited, so damn happy to be able to win something that his good mood cancels out Eddie’s own inner disappointment. 

Before he can point to anything on the wall, the carnie walks forward, holding out two more darts. “Tell you what, you got two bonus shots on me.”

Richie doesn’t hesitate. He grabs them both, handing one off to Eddie and smiling wide. He throws, hitting a balloon and his cheers practically double. When Eddie throws his dart and nails yet another balloon, Richie wraps his arms around Eddie and spins him around twice. “What does that win us?”

“Still a medium, but if you hit this last shot I’ll make it a large. Twenty if you hit it, nothing if you don’t.” He hands the dart directly to Richie, smiling as he does. Richie doesn’t hesitate to throw it. The dart lands directly where one was earlier, missing any viable balloons. He immediately gets handed another dart with a, “Didn’t see nothing.”

Richie throws again, too fast for Eddie to think or say anything. He hit it and the carnie smiles something wide and wicked. “Thirty bucks, kid.”

Richie smiles and opens his wallet, handing the guy his money and turning back to Eddie. “What’d’ya say, Eds? Which one of those lovely prizes suits your fancy?”

On the back wall hangs several different items. There is a rather large, yellow Pikachu holding a red  _ not quite  _ Pokeball. Next to that hangs a husky puppy with big, blue plastic eyes and a pink tongue hanging out of its mouth. Further down is a pastel rainbow llama with a stitched on smile and thin, floppy ears. And finally, there’s the classic Rasta Banana guy in all of his big, banana glory. 

Richie’s excitement is palpable at this point as he watches Eddie scan the wall. The prizes are good. They’re things he would pride himself on winning no matter what. In the end, it’s the llama that catches his eye. There’s something unique about it and Eddie has never really seen a prize like that in one of these games before. When he points to it, Richie almost falls over. “That’s the one I was gonna pick! It’s so cute, reminds me of you. All those bright colors and that cute little face. You’ve got good taste.”

“If you like that, I have an offer for you,” the carnie says. He leans forward, arms resting on the wooden ledge of his booth. His eyes lock onto Richie’s star struck ones and he says, very slowly, “I’ve got one double that size hanging in the back. If you pop three more balloons, it’s all yours.”

Again, quicker than Eddie can even think, Richie agrees. The carnie hands him a dart and says, quick and fast, “nothing if you miss, twenty if you hit.” Richie pops the first balloon and holds his hand out for a second dart. The carnie repeat his words so fast Eddie is  _ sure  _ Richie can’t hear him. 

“Richie, I don’t –” Richie throws the dart again, missing and immediately getting handed another. Eddie places a hand on Richie’s bicep, leaning into him and whispering, “I don’t need a big one, I promise.”

“Nonsense, Eds! You deserve the biggest one in this entire place,” Richie says, throwing again and popping a second balloon. In front of them, the carnie smiles and hands Richie a final dart. 

Eddie sighs, watching it connect with the third and final balloon.

“Alright, kid, sixty bucks.” The carnie holds out his hand and Eddie watches as Richie’s face shifts from excitement to confusion. He blindly pulls his wallet out, fishes out some bills, and hands them over. The carnie smiles and counts them all before retrieving an impressively sized llama from the back. “This here is skittles. He and I bonded quite a lot over the years so make sure you take good care of him.” 

He hands the llama to Richie, who gets down on one knee to present it to Eddie. “Here you are, Eds. One apo-llama-gy.”

Eddie takes it with an eye roll and once they’re far enough away, he turns to Richie and says with a dead tone, “You just got conned.”

Richie stops dead in his tracks and looks down at Eddie, eyes wide and expression blank. “What?”

“Are you serious?” He can’t be serious. There’s no way he didn’t actually know, right? It was so obvious. “This thing is not worth almost a hundred dollars. He took you for a ride.”

Richie’s mouth flounders for a moment, eyes scanning the ground as he looks for the answers to the universe, or maybe just trying to figure out if Eddie is right or not. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs for a moment and clutches onto the llama a little bit harder. Richie’s eyes find his again and he gives Eddie a thorough once over, eyes moving from the top of his head to his toes. It’s at this moment that Eddie starts to feel self-conscious again. He must look ridiculous. He’s so short already and now he’s got this llama that’s half his size that practically matches his outfit. He’s standing next to what might be the hottest gargantuan bean pole in existence and, oh god. Those feelings from before, the  _ I’m not good enough for him  _ ones start to come up again. 

“Well, if it’s for you, it’s worth it. Come on, I have a place picked out for dinner.”

He leads Eddie back through the carnival, hands clasped together, and they cross Prince street and head up, deeper into the North End. The walk itself is short, but the deeper they get the more congested it gets. This congestion is different than the carnival, though. It shifts from young, carefree people to older, more elegant groups. They’re put together and dressed up and probably have more money than Eddie is worth. It keeps the dust inside of him stirring, reminds him of his humble upbringing and his lower-middle class life. It dawns on him that he doesn’t know how much money Richie makes. He doesn’t even really know what Richie does for a living. They’re both in their mid-twenties and he just kind of assumed Richie was in the same boat as him, but here he is throwing away money on stupid carnival games and bringing him to some fancy place in the North End of Boston. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him. 

They stop at an Italian restaurant with open windows and white tablecloths. Inside, the lighting is dim and older couples clink glasses of wine while they eat their overpriced carbs. Eddie can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t where he’s supposed to be. This was just supposed to be a fun date with no pressure and no expectations but suddenly he feels like he’s drowning in the urge to compensate for who he is. 

“I feel out of place here,” comes out in nothing but a whisper. He’s not dressed fancy enough for this neighborhood. His pastel shorts and white polo clash with the dark button ups of the elite surrounding him. Richie at least looks presentable in dark wash jeans and a black shirt. He can pass off as a rich kid just not giving a shit. Eddie is too bright, too childish in these crowds. The giant pastel llama he’s got clutched in his hands only puts him further on the outside. “I didn’t realize the carnival was in the North End.”

“You don’t need to be ‘in place’, Eddie. We’re grabbing dinner, not meeting the Queen.” Richie’s voice is soft and soothing while they wait to be led into the restaurant. He’s got on strong arm wrapped around Eddie, his hand rubbing gentle circles into Eddie’s side. Before they’re led in, Richie smiles down at him and takes the llama from his arms. “Why do you feel out of place?”

“I’m not dressed up enough for this.” The shame in his voice leaks through a little bit and his face goes red for the thousandth time. 

“Look at that guy,” Richie says, gesturing with the llama, “He’s wearing socks with sandals, khaki shorts, and a baseball shirt. I bet he makes more money than both of us combined. If rich people are allowed to not really give a shit about how they look, so are you. Besides, I think you look perfect.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything back.

“I think we should name him Sprinkles. Skittles doesn’t fit. What do you think?”

Something about the way Richie holds that stupid, colorful llama without so much as blinking an eye eases the knot that was tightening in Eddie’s stomach. He looks so confident, so calm. Eddie can’t help the way his smile starts at the crinkle of his eyes and spreads all the way through his heart to the curling in his toes. It’s overwhelming and wonderful and warm. Richie smiles back at him, something genuine. “How about Senior Pastel Sprinkles the Third?”

Richie throws his head back and laughs loud and bright. It attracts the attention of several people around them even more than the giant colorful llama does but this time Eddie doesn’t care. 

**Author's Note:**

> I need everyone to know that this is based on real life events. Not the dating site part, but the being conned at a carnival part. My girlfriend is the sweetest person alive and she genuinely didn’t think carnies are con men. Also this is set in Boston because thats where I went on vacation this summer and that’s where this happened. And yes, I do have an absolutely GIANT pastel rainbow llama in my living room right now. If you wanna see it, send me an ask about it.
> 
> Huge shoutout to XandertheUndead for beta reading this for me. It was written during a 6 hour train ride and without her it wouldn't be nearly as polished and cohesive as it might be now, so enormous thank you. She is a wonderful person and a wonderful writer, go check out her Newsies AU she's cowriting with tinyarmedtrex. It's wonderful and fun and oh so amazing. 
> 
> Anyway I haven’t written anything fluffy sans angst in like..... years so here you go lmao. I hope you like it! Please validate me with a comment!
> 
> Come talk to me @ reddie-for-anything.tumblr.com!


End file.
